


don't wanna be taught to be no fool

by orangesparks



Category: Ferris Bueller's Day Off (1986)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Multi, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-25
Updated: 2011-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-28 02:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/302953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangesparks/pseuds/orangesparks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ferris and Sloane are starting to rub off on him. He can't decide whether or not this is a good thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't wanna be taught to be no fool

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coldriverblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldriverblue/gifts).



Every day is a national emergency. Especially when you're convinced that each instance of shortness of breath (caused by that ten-minute gym class sprint around the track) could also lead to you collapsing, writhing, spasming, until you eventually die.

He's pretty sure Nurse Sparrow is only being nice when the notes she writes to Coach Clark cite his reason for being excused from P.E. as "nervous fatigue" instead of "this kid is just really fucking crazy".

Still. At least high school is shaping up to be better than junior high.

 

-

 

"It's a Homecoming dance, not the seventh circle of Hell."

"Explain the difference to me."

Because, really, Cameron can't imagine Hell being much different - or worse - than wearing a ridiculous blue silk shirt no one else under the age of forty would be caught dead in, doing an awkward shuffle that's closer to having a seizure than dancing, to the oh-so-torturous song stylings of Menudo, all the while being cooped inside Shermer High's gymnasium for two and a half hours. ("You're overreacting," says Ferris, before swigging back his Pepsi and gargling it so the acidic contents wash over every square inch of his mouth.)

At best, he'll spend most of his time on the bleachers, adjusting his new Casio and checking out what time it is in Tokyo. Worst? Ferris will introduce him to some poor, unsuspecting transfer student as a kid dying of a terminal disease (even though he probably _is_ and just doesn't know it), and won't she just dance with him, make his night a little more special, because Ferris sure would appreciate it.

Other than that-- nah.

Maybe they're entirely different.

The freshman sitting on the bleachers two rows back looks just as miserable as he is, in a turquoise party dress he's guessing she no more picked out for herself than he did his own ensemble, glumly inspecting her bangle bracelets and tapping a foot in time to the music. And maybe he'd go say hi to her if that didn't involve, well, talking. To a member of the opposite sex. Who's not his mother or the school nurse.

(The girl in the turquoise dress is named Sloane, and she and Ferris are going steady by the middle of Cameron's junior year.)

 

-

 

Self-expression essays make his teeth grind. Sure, there are plenty of adjectives Cameron could use to describe himself. And "responsible" is just a synonym for dull, isn't it? Safe.

Boring.

"You're friends with _me_ ," Ferris had said, insulted on Cameron's behalf (and possibly his own) when this was pointed out. Insulted, mostly, at the insinuation that _he_ would be friends with anyone boring.

That was the end of the conversation.

(And in that weird, roundabout way of Ferris's - it actually cheers him up.)

 

-

 

It might be the first time in his high school career that Ferris is _actually_ sick - and, just his luck, it happens on a Saturday.

He waves Cameron and Sloane off to the Multiplex without him ("I've heard some terrific things about _Killer Dolphin Versus The Shark People_!"), with the condition that they don't spoil the ending - a feat that Cameron thinks might be impossible anyhow, if the film itself ends up being as confusing as its trailer, and also, what the hell is even that movie title.

They pay for their own tickets, but share a popcorn (they don't share a soda; even though Cameron thinks he would cut off his own hand at the wrist for a chance to kiss or even touch Sloane, he really doesn't want to catch anything if that bug of Ferris's _is_ contagious).

 

-

 

Ferris and Sloane walk too closely together in the hallways, holding hands. Although he's always included in the conversations, he still gets a lonely thrill out of feeling sorry for himself, lagging behind.

When Sloane grabs his hand at the parade, natural as breathing, he tries not to squeeze back too hard, and moves through the crowd without looking back.

 

-

 

She tucks her hair behind her ear whenever she's truly upset, arms crossed tight over her chest, refusing eye contact. She'll nervously bite swollen lips, teeth white and sharp, and he'll stare at her mouth for too long before he realizes what he's doing.

He's only seen her like that twice in the years he's known her. The first time was when her parents were getting divorced.

The second was when he pretended to drown.

He felt like an asshole afterward, when all was said and done and Ferris seemed to finally realize, for once, how it felt when it seemed not a goddamn thing was going right and you couldn't bullshit your way to freedom.

(He still doesn't regret it.)

 

-

 

Dances don't gain any favor with him over the years, even if he's discovered the joy of spiked punch (usually even before Rooney himself discovers it and, red-faced, immediately dumps and replaces the punch bowl with chocolate milk cartons from the cafeteria).

Ferris, as always, is bombarded by dozens of hopeful girls the instant he arrives at prom, stepping out of Cameron's shitty beat-up car like a rock star emerging from his limo. Sloane never gets jealous. Or never seems to, anyway.

She shrugs when Cameron asks about it; Ferris is off doing the Locomotion with a perky blonde from the pep squad. She never answers the question, just asks one of her own, wordlessly, grinning and grabbing his wrist, pulling him onto the dance floor.

Not a moment after he follows, she steps close, looping her arms around his neck, bangle bracelets brushing against his skin, and he awkwardly places his hands around her waist.

She raises an eyebrow. "You cool?"

"Yeah. Definitely."

"Good. 'Cause you were looking a little green for a while, there. I was worried."

He tenses, then relaxes, realizing it's just a joke. Ferris catches his eye from over the blonde's shoulder and winks.

Sloane smiles at him, and that familiar ache that always grows in his chest whenever she does is back in full force. He tries his best to smile back, hoping he doesn't look too much like he's just swallowed a bottle of Pepto Bismol.

Speaking of - he wonders if Sloane has any.

 

-

 

It's a risky move. But maybe a brilliant one.

Every day, without fail, the Pledge of Allegiance blares monotonically from the loudspeakers as students grumble and rise, some still asleep, some still hungover. Even though it's the last day for seniors, there's no reason for this to change.

The scratchy recording gets halfway though "for which it stands" when the record screeches to a halt, replaced by the jangling guitars of the Ramones.

 _"Well, I don't care about history..."_

Today's scheme may have been executed by Ferris Bueller and Sloane Peterson, but it was dreamed up by one Mr. Cameron Frye.


End file.
